A Single Shaft of Light
by wingsrookie
Summary: Hermione and Ron want to get the best present ever for Harry's birthday! What happens if that present decides to be her present, too? An SBHG. R&R!
1. A surprised birthday present

A/N: Hello readers! Normally I don't write SBHG, but I was trying to find one to read, in an effort to branch out, and found no new ones that I liked. So, I decided to write one of my own. Poor Sirius has been much neglected on my story shelf, so I dedicate this prolog to him.. Hope you likes it.

_**Warning: **_most of books six and seven didn't happen (especially that dratted epilogue!) in this fic. If the Harry Potter series belonged to me, the last three books would be in ashes, Sirius would be alive (along with all the wonderful people JKR killed off!), Voldemort would still have died, and I would be filthy rich. Since this is not the case, just know that they didn't happen here (unless spicifically stated by moi.)

Disclaimer: see my main page

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_**A single shaft of light**_

" Put it together, oneself, and a picture connects. "

* * *

Flickering candlelight and the soft incandescent glow of a tiny lamp illuminated a cluttered desk. A quill was being frantically danced across some parchment by a young girl with brunette hair. Glancing up at the clock and looking even more frantic every two seconds, Hermione Granger hurriedly copied some information out of a book. When the clock chimed eleven o'clock, Hermione quickly put the book, the paper, and many other papers into a messenger back which she then slung over her shoulder. Taking a look around her cluttered office, Hermione repressed the urge to sigh and start cleaning.

Instead, she grabbed her jacket and keys before rushing down the stairs of her house and out into the night air. Turning on the spot, she disapperated to just outside Diagon Alley. No sooner had she arrived than she say a tiny flicker of light around the corner of the invisible pub. Hermione crept around the corner. A tall, slender shadow wrapped in a cloak seemed to be pacing impatiently.

"Took ya long enough, Hermione!" Hissed the figure as it stopped pacing and turned to look at her.

"Sorry, Ronald, but I _did_ say eleven, and I only just finished the notes." Hermione replied somewhat breathlessly. The figure nodded sharply and doused his wand.

"Are sure this is gonna work, 'Mione?" Ron asked, sounding worried. Hermione snorted.

"Have I ever been wrong before?" She demanded tartly, hands on her hips.

"Well...there was that one time in Surrey..." Ron started. Hermione smacked him on the arm.

"I _meant_ about solving magical puzzles, not trying to guess the gender of an ancient sorcerer after one to many rounds of firewine!" Hermione snapped, eyes practically glowing with her own brand of impatience.

"Er...right. Just joking, Hermione." He replied, chuckling at the memory. Hermione held out her hand, and Ron picked up a bag from where it'd been leaning against the invisible pub. Hermione took the pack and put her arms through the straps. Once she'd settled it on her back, she gave Ron a brief hug and then disapperated.

When she arrived, she found herself to be in the Ministry's apparation rooms. Quickly she strode over to the doors and waved her "borrowed" ministry badge at the detector. Thank goodness Harry had become an Auror! She'd never have been able to pull this off if none of them worked at the ministry! Tapping her foot impatiently, she waited for the doors to click open. Not two seconds after the door unlocked, Hermione pushed them open instead of waiting for the doors to open on their own. Security had gone up in the ministry, ever since Hermione, Ron, Harry, and some of the DA had broken in during their fifth year at Hogwarts. Quickly Hermione strode down hallways and to the staircase. Most witches and Wizards preferred to use the elavator. But what most witches and wizards _didn't_ know was that the elevator had a tracking charm on it. Whenever the elavator was in use, after-hours when the Ministry was supposed to be closed, an alarm went off in the Security room.

Hermione had no intention of alerting _anyone_ to what she was doing, excepting Ron (who was involved in tonight's escapade), and maybe a third person, if possible. She flew down the staircases, taking large jumps. Somehow she landed like a cat: silent and balanced. She continued leaping staircases and landings. Very soon she was at one end of a very long hall. Sprinting down the hallway, Hermione counted the doors. On the fifth door on the left, she stopped and slipped inside.

Inside the room she'd just entered, was a sort of nexus-room. Many doors were set into the walls around her. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the vertigo to settle down. Concentrating on a certain door she wished to enter, she walked forward until she felt it's handle underneath her hand. She pulled the door open and went in before she opened her eyes. Before her stood a giant stone pedestal. Quickly she ascended the steps to the top and stared at the archway before her. In between the arches poles was the silvery veil that had stolen Sirus Black three years ago. It was strangely still, unlike the last time she'd seen it. As she walked closer, however, it started to ripple slightly. The closer she got, the better she was able to hear a quiet sussuration. It sounded like voices, but Hermione wasn't fooled. She knew it was just the charm surrounding the veil to make it look appealing.

Taking off the bag and placing it on the floor, she removed her eyes from the veil. Once Ron's bag was opened, Hermione took out a small vial and some beautiful silver jewelry. Slipping a silver-chained necklace with a black diamond pendant around her throat, she also put on two silver rings. One had a top formed in the sign of eternity, with one crystal diamond and one black diamond set in the middle. The second had a pale, shimmery opal set in the center and strange runes around the top part of the band. She also put two dangling silver earrings in her ears. One was in the shape of a gavel, the other a set of scales. Out of the bag she pulled a set of robes, shimmering silver in the pale light that resembled moonlight in its purest from that radiated from the veil. After pulling the robes on, she took off her pants and shirt that were underneath and folded them and placed them into Ron's bag.

Taking the book and her pages of notes out of the messenger bag she'd brought, Hermione opened the book to a marked spot and stepped forward till she stood only inches away from the veil. Holding the small crystal vial aloft, she began chanting things from her notes. The veil and her robes started to whip about somewhat wildly, her robes twisting around her body and legs like an affectionate silken cat. There was no wind in the room. Slowly another voice joined hers, a deep male voice that was sonorous and sure. No one else was in the room with her. The vial, which had seemed to be full of quick silver, turned a purest glowing white color, so bright it could neither be looked at directly nor described accurately. Hermione continued chanting. A long fold appeared in the middle of the veil, and then it parted like two curtains. The other voice started to overpower the sound of her own voice, replacing the normal feminine timbres of her voice with the deep masculine tones. She was speaking with someone else's voice. She didn't dare stop to see if the other person stopped two, however. That would ruin the spell.

A dark figure was thrust forward, out of the veil and Hermione didn't notice or have time to move before the figure collided with her. Hermione was moved back a couple inches, but she threw the vial into the veil and finished her chant the other voice, loud and thunderous. The veil glowed bright as the bottle had been, for a moment, and Hermione shut her eyes. It was to no avail, however, for the image of the veil burned through her eyelids and into her brain. She felt sure she would be seeing the veil for the rest of her life, an overlay on top of everything else. The figure's weight started to wear on Hermione, so she spread her legs apart and took a little firmer stance. After bending down slightly and wrapping one arm around the person's midsection, she withdrew her wand out of it's holster on her arm and shot a quick spell at the person. He wouldn't be waking up at an inconvenient moment now. Then she charmed him to be super-light and drew him over her shoulder. Ron's bag she shrunk and stuck in her pocket, along with the messenger bag.

After disillusioning the two of them, Hermione raced back to the apparition spot and was on her way out.

* * *

_Flash! A green light was coming straight towards him. Sirius tried to dodge it, but to no avail. The green killing curse had almost hit him when a red stunner hit him from another side and knocked him backwards. For a long time, all he knew was darkness._

Light seemed to be surrounding him again, if the redish-yellow color shining through his eyelids was any indication. He kept silent, so as not to alert any unfriendly people of his activities. Slowly noise surrounded him, and Sirius was glad he'd kept silent. There was no need to alert them he was awake, if the Death Eaters from the ministry had caught him.

"Who's asleep on the couch?" A curious female voice asked. Somehow he got the impression that he knew that voice. An embarrassed mumbling followed the question, and Sirius strained his ears to see if he could tell who it was. This second voice was also familiar, but he couldn't place them. They weren't any of the Death Eaters he was personally familiar with, though.

"Come again?" The first voice asked, in a teasing sort of way.

"Hermione! You didn't tell us you were coming today!" Said a delighted voice that Sirius knew to be Ronald Weasely's. A deep sigh escaped Sirius. He wasn't in the clutches of Death Eater scum, then. Now if only he could be sure Harry and the Prophecy had come out intact and unharmed, he'd be a happy man. Never again would he complain about being forced to stay locked up in Grimmauld Place!

"Well, it _is_ Harry's birthday tomorrow." Hermione pointed out. Ron chuckled.

"So what, you going to spend the night with him for his birthday, then?" Ronald asked, in a very teasing tone.

"Ronald Billius Weasely! How dare you suggest that I would...the very idea...!" Hermione's voice exclaimed.

"Yeah, besides, she knows _I'm _the only one allowed to do _that_." Came the first female voice again, and Sirius realized it was the youngest Weasely child. What was her name? Jenny? Jimmy? OH! Ginny! Now he remembered. Strange, usually he was pretty good with names...ah, well.

"_Ah, well. Maybe I've been a bit preoccupied with Harry. It's hard to let him know what's going on when all the other adults insist on treating him like he's still two! Ah, the many trials of a Godfather."_ Sirius thought.

"Who's Hermione spending the night with?" Harry's voice asked, and Sirius heard him enter the room. There came a sputtering sound, and He found that it seemed to be the voice closest to him. Sirius took a chance and cracked one eye open, only to find what he thought was the oppressing air of Grimmauld Place weighing him down was actually a tightly-knitted afghan. Peering through some of the bigger holes by his face, he saw that Hermione was the one closest to him, and she had gone a lovely shade of dusky rose.

"I'm _spending the night_ at Grimmauld Place. I just thought, since I just barely got your present, that you'd like to have it now, since it won't really wait much longer." Hermione replied rather indignantly.

"Wait, wait wait! Stop the owls! Call back tomorrow's edition of the Prophet! Hermione Granger _just barely got Harry's present!_ And it's the _night before_ the occasion!" Ginny laughed, and Hermione harrumphed but looked slightly pleased.

"Yeah, well...there was sort of a special time-frame on it." She admitted, looking slightly less embarrassed than a few moments previous. Suddenly a light went on in Sirius's head. Harry's birthday? But it'd been Harry's birthday just a few months ago! What on earth was going on?!

"So, what'd you get me? And who's the stiff?" Harry demanded, sounding very much like the afore-mentioned two year old that the adults get thinking he was.

"Well, the stiff...that is to say, this person, is your present." Hermione mumbled, and Sirius was confused. Were they talking about him?

"You got Harry a _person_ for his birthday?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"What is it, a really large mutant house-elf that no one else wanted?" Ron asked, and the teasing tone was back in his voice again.

"Well, no. Actually, it's ...er..." Hermione began trying to explain, in a rather breathless voice, but she seemed to find that there wasn't really anything to say. So, with that, she reached to the side and whisked the blanket off of Sirius. Sirius and Harry stared at each other, both with slightly dumb-struck looks on their faces.

"S..Sirius?!" Harry demanded, sounding like he not only couldn't believe it, but wouldn't. Almost as though his Godfather were a gift to precious to actually exist. Which Sirius knew for a fact, he did.

"Er...yeah. Surprise? Would someone like to tell me what's going on? And why on earth you all look so much older! For that matter, are you really Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione?! Because I seem to remember celebrating Harry's birthday just a few months ago." Sirius replied, trying to get his brain back in working order. Before, when the blanket had been covering him and he'd been laying down, they had looked just like the Harry, Ron, and Hermione that he knew. Now, though, they all seemed to have grown up and aged a few years.

"The thing is, Sirius, that you fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries." Hermione informed him gently. Sirus stared at her in horror.

"But...no one's ever come back from the _veil_! Am I dead? Is this Heaven or Hell?!" Sirius demanded. Young Ginny Weasely looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Actually, it's neither. See, Hermione and I decided that bringing you back would be the perfect way to match Ginny's gift. I mean, we can't – and won't—give Harry a baby, so we thought we'd give him his Godfather back instead. And everyone knows that nothings's impossible if Hermione Granger puts her mind to it!" Ronald said, with an awed tone when he looked at Hermione. Hermione scowled and whacked him on the shoulder again.

"You knew?" Harry asked Ron, sounding startled.

"Well, yeah. Remember when I was in the loo forever? I actually went to help Hermione set up part of the retrieval process. Then I had to distract you until she got back. It was a simple matter to get you down here to see him, once he was in place." Ron told them proudly. Rolling her eyes, Hermione threw herself down next to Sirius on the couch.

"So, what do you think? Best birthday present ever?" the witch demanded, grinning. Harry nodded, still somewhat awestruck. Sirius looked at the witch sitting next to him with a sort of awed suspicion.

"If what you're telling me is true, then I owe you my life and soul. Don't think I'll forget it. Assuming you aren't just Death Eaters in disguise." Sirius murmured. Ginny laughed at his suspicion, still not quite able to believe it herself. Making an annoyed tsking sort of sound, Hermione ordered Harry to tell Sirius things that only the two of them had talked about.

When the three had finished telling him things that only they would know, Sirius believed them whole heartedly. The rest of the evening was spent catching him up on what had been happening in the Wizarding world since he'd fallen into the veil. As the others talked, he kept stealing glances at Hermione. She truly was an incredible witch.

_"Remus was wrong, though. She's not the smartest witch of her age."_ Sirius thought, bemused still by this strange change in his life. _"She's the smartest witch of the century. Doubt even Dumbledore could've "rescued" me from that veil."_ He resolved firmly that someday, he would repay the favor. If he had to spend the rest of his life waiting, he'd make sure that it was a life she enjoyed to the fullest.

* * *

Well, there you go peoples. Hope you liked that! I wasn't originally going to add a prolog, but then a plot-bunny ran rampant through my head and I couldn't help but write it down. Let me know what you think! My policy on stories is : if people review, I post more. Simple, and efficient (for me) ;) . Simply because this is only a prolog, though, I've written the first chapter and posted it as well today. So be sure to review, since I was extra nice even though I'm sick and miserable! (I hate sore throats and wisedom teeth...arg!).

Wingsrookie.


	2. An outstanding debt

A/N: Hello all! Just a quick heads up, this chapter takes place a couple years after the prolog.

Disclaimer: see my main page

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_**A single shaft of light**_

"When sorrows come, they come not as single spies,

But in battalions!" - Shakespeared, Hamlet, IV, v_**"**_

* * *

Soft sobs gently enfolded a small, shaking lump of blankets. The blankets seemed to radiate a sense of misery into the air around them. Soft sunlight gently filled the room, and it seemed to be trying to comforting the lump of blankets. All efforts on the sunlight's part, however, were in vain. For inside the lump, was another lump which was more commonly known as Hermione Granger. Inside this second lump, a huge muscle had been pulled. It was a muscle Hermione Granger had often used, so it was quite limber and used to being abused. In this case, however, it was a new exercise for Hermione Granger, and she had never before done it. So, it was almost inevitable (in her mind), that she'd pulled this muscle.

Curled up like an armadillo trying to protect itself, Hermione tried to keep the pieces of her beating heart in one spot, so that it continued beating and she didn't die. It didn't seem to be working, though, if the pain was any indication. Briefly she wondered if one could actually die from heartache. Was it, perhaps, a heart-attack's lesser known but equally deadly sibling?

"Why?! What did I do wrong?!" Hermione wailed at the ceiling of her little flat, having uncurled, turned onto her back, and moved the blankets enough to shake her fist at the ceiling. The ceiling, not caring much for the life of the human beneath it, did not answer.

"Perhaps it's that hair, dear. Or maybe it's your figure...you certainly haven't been sparing the biscuits..." Offered her mirror helpfully, from it's spot next to one of her bookcases. Hermione promised herself that as soon as she could move without dieing, she would trash the stupid thing. The mirror, ignoring her, continued to offer suggestions.

"Or it could be those dreadful clothes! I mean, they're not even professional! You could even wear robes! But honestly, somewhat baggy and unflattering jeans, baggy t-shirts, semi-white socks, and clunky brown shoes! Do people stare when you walk down the street? It would be hard not to. You look like a charity case waiting to happen." The mirror informed Hermione, who'd slumped back over onto her side. As the annoying mirror continued to ramble on, the phone rang. Cursing whoever it was to the deepest pits of limbo and back, Hermione managed to drag herself to her feet and mope over to the phone. Picking it up slowly, Hermione brought it to her ear, only to hear a dial tone. Growling, she dropped the phone back onto it's cradle.

She'd almost made it back to her spot on the floor when the phone rang again. Only this time, it was her cell phone. Deciding that the deepest pits of Limbo were to good for whoever was bothering her now, she decided that they should be cursed with becoming Voldemort's personal pedicure slave. Envisioning the hapless caller trying to pedicure Voldemort's feet without being Avada'd or Crucio'd, she stumbled her way over to the coat rack and fished the phone out of her jacket. Flipping it open, she pressed the talk button.

"You've reached Hermione Granger. I'm not in reach of my phone right now. If you're confidant that I care that you called, leave your name and number and I'll think about getting back to you. Don't be surprised if you don't merit a callback." Hermione said into the phone, in a bored sort of tone. For a few minutes there was silence.

"Erm...hello?...very funny Hermione, I know you're there!...Pick up the phone, Hermione!...Look, we need to talk. I know you're probably pretty mad right now, but there's a good explanation, I swear!..." A loud voice from the other side of the line shouted. Hermione held the phone out at arms length and winced. The look on her face said the caller was clearly an idiot.

"Beep!" Hermione said, immitating an answering machine, before hitting the off button.

Being Voldemort's personal manicurist was too good for that berk. Of course, she knew who it was. Who else ever called her to apologize? Most of Hermione's friends came in _person_ to discuss their problems with her, not that she usually had any with her other friends. Only her long-time boyfriend seemed to provoke the worst side of Hermione. Just today the revelation came that Hermione also brought out the worst in her new ex, Todd Semalin. Tears trailed down her cheeks as she thought about her life.

She'd gone to her classes at the college. Classes had been a bit of a challenge, since it was a college that was partially Wizarding and partially Muggle. Everything had to be explained in different ways, according to the knowledge of magic (or belief in it) the professor of the class had, and the subject matter. Not only that, but Hermione had been taking nineteen credits and working a part-time job as well. Basically, she'd run herself ragged. It was even worse than her third year, though. Little things like eating and being hygienic had fallen to the wayside in her attempt to keep up with her classes and still work enough hours to be able to keep her apartment, pay tuition, _and_ for supplies for class. In fact she was so broke, that she was glad for once that Crookshanks had passed on shortly after the war with Voldemort. Not that she didn't miss the half-kneazle, but Hermione could never have afforded food or flea-collars, or treats, or shampoo for her beloved familiar.

Todd had been the one bright spot in her life. Late at night, once she'd gotten off work, he was always there to rub her back, or sit and talk. It was true they hadn't gone on a real date for quite some time, but they'd always managed to find a few seconds to text or meet briefly during the day. There wasn't a day or night that had gone by where Hermione and Todd could say they hadn't seen each other. It came as a very rude shock to Hermione when she found out that she wasn't as important to Todd as he was to her. That day the Professor of her speech class let his class out early, as one of the speakers for the day had been absent. For the first time in months, not a single pressing piece of homework was on her schedule. Work started at 5, and the Professor let them out at three o'clock.

Hermione knew Todd's schedule better than her own, so she knew he'd be at home right now. He was probably studying for his Chemistry class, since he was failing it. Or he could be watching t.v. Either way, Hermione wanted to see him. Maybe they could catch a movie, or go to the park. Some serious snogging sounded like a good idea too, though. Maybe they could do all three.

"After all, I have two hours, and if we snog while doing on of the other things..." Hermione had thought. Now she felt like shaking the past her for such stupidity. That git didn't deserve snogging. What he deserved was to be castrated. Unsuspecting, Hermione had let herself in with her copy of the key to the flat, and searched for him. He wasn't in the kitchen, the bathroom, or den. He wasn't in his bedroom, either. When she walked into the laundry room, she was not expecting him to actually be there. To her surprise, and horror, he had been. He'd been sitting on top of the dryer, with a busty brunette on his lap. Hurt, and more than furious, Hermione did the first thing she thought of. She dropped her wand into her hand from it's hidden holster in her sleeve, and hexed the git.

A small, satisfied smirk curled on her lips when she thought of the hex. Todd's friend may have been a muggle, but he and the brunette had been too occupied with other matters to pay the least bit of attention to what Hermione had been doing. It would be quite a long time before Todd ever found himself able to feel like snogging. If he ever felt like it again. The smirk vanished, though, when she thought about his call. He wasn't the only wizard who'd ever called her on her phone, although he was the only one to do so recently. He _was_ the only one who still thought he had to be shouted to be heard over such "long distances". He was also the only one she knew who still didn't understand that only the message machines on _house _phones played out loud while recording their message.

How _dare_ he try to explain away what she'd seen. Of course she'd confronted him after stashing her wand up her sleeve once more. The idiot had the gall to say it wasn't what it looked like. Picking up her cellphone once more, Hermione contemplated calling one of her girl friends to cry with. Once more, Hermione began to sob as she realized there was no one she _could_ call. Not even guy friends, and she was almost desperate enough at this point to call one of her guy friends.

All of her friends from her first couple years of college had already graduated. Not because Hermione had been taking forever to complete all her requirements, but simply because her requirements list was so much longer. Hermione had chosen to major in more than one area. In the Wizarding world she had chosen to major in wandless magic, elemental magic, and self-transfiguration. In the muggle world, her major was communication. So her requirements took much longer than those of her friends, and she had been over working herself in order to meet those requirements and graduate some time before she was forty. In the Wizarding world it was quite normal for a witch or wizard to spend ten to twenty years for a single- or double-mastery when they were apprenticed. The college Hermione attended now was a new idea, and majoring in three Wizarding specialties, along with a muggle one, was unheard of. Hermione was determined that she would succeed, and in a good time frame. Granted she would live longer than most muggles, but she still wanted to be done with school.

College had driven the bookworm almost right out of her. Now, when she thought about reading for pleasure, it was a book of fiction that she might pick up at the muggle bookstore, or nothing at all. Not only that, but it seemed to have made her a loner, as well. Most of her friends from her freshman year had graduated, and she didn't have time to spend with friends because of her work load in both school and at her job. The only person she'd spent time with recently was Todd. Now he was gone, too. For Hermione steadfastly refused to ever see that jerk ever again. She wouldn't even talk to him, unless he managed to get up the guts to come and force a confrontation face-to-face. Knowing Todd, though, he wouldn't. If the brunette she'd seen him with was any indication, he'd already lost interest in her anyways.

_"Why'd he even bother to keep up pretenses?"_ Hermione wondered, in an irritated way. All her friends from Hogwarts had their own lives now. Harry worked as an auror all day, and then picked up his two boys from daycare. After that, he played with them and helped them finish their homework before his wife got home. They all ate dinner together, and then had an hour or two of family time before it was time to put the children to bed. Then it was Harry and Ginny time.

Ginny worked in the Malfoy offices, working business deals for her boss on an international level. That ran from six in the morning to six in the evening. After two hours of time with Harry, Ginny went back to work until midnight. Although Hermione had visited with Harry and Ginny Potter a few times in her Freshman year, when the classes had all been really easy, she always felt bad for taking up precious family time.

Ron owled Hermione once every few months, but he was kept very busy traveling with, or playing and practicing for the Chuddly Cannons. He and his long-time girlfriend Luna Lovegood spent every single moment of his time in England together. When he was in a neighboring country, Luna often apparated or port-keyed to see him. Right now Hermione thought he might be in Moscow. She'd sent him gloves that were charmed to stay super-warm, but which were so thin they might as well have been part of your skin. It was an invention she'd made during her Christmas break, to keep herself in the habit of studying and doing research.

Suddenly her stomach rumbled, and Hermione wrapped one arm around it as though to ward off the hunger. Moping over to her refrigerator, Hermione opened it without much faith. Not very surprised, Hermione stared at the refrigerator in hopes that something would appear magically. Apparently the replenishing spell on the fridge had run its course, though, because nothing did.

"Great...and I don't have any money for groceries..." Hermione thought bitterly. It wasn't that she couldn't perform the replenishing spell, but that there had to be food actually _in _the fridge when the spell was cast, or it wouldn't have anything to replenish. Not only that, but Hermione also didn't have enough energy to perform magic. Right now Hermione was using all her energy just to perform and practice the spells she needed for class.

Normally Hermione Granger never had to worry about being able to do magic, because she'd always been exceptionally talented. Her body, however, had been under great stress lately. Since Hermione averaged one to three hours of sleep a night, and ate barely anything. When she did have money to put food in her fridge in order to renew the replenishing spell, it was usually only a few items. Once she'd been stuck eating tomatoes, tuna fish, 1 milk, and pickles for two months. She still avoided pickles and tomatoes.

Because of a combination of mental stress and physical stress, Hermione's magic had to be used carefully. The energy needed to use magic came directly from one's body and fat stores. So, since Hermione wasn't eating or sleeping properly, she didn't have any extra energy to spare. This made performing magic very difficult, and sometimes downright impossible. Sighing, Hermione decided something had to give. Not only had she lost Todd, but she didn't have money for food, she was barely making rent (and it was always late), and she couldn't use magic. Hermione tried not to look at her house as she grabbed some parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle off of her messy desk.

Her personal hygiene wasn't the only thing that had suffered from her busy schedule. The cleanliness of her flat could also be added to the long, and growing, list of trivial things that had fallen by the wayside in Hermione's attempt to survive. Biting her lip in concentration, Hermione settled down to write a long letter. She couldn't beg for food, but that didn't mean she couldn't take advantage of an old, outstanding debt. This letter might be able to help her solve all her problems. And if not this one, than maybe the one after it.

* * *

_Dear Sirius,_

_ Sorry to bother you, but I...as much as it pains me to say it, I could use a bit of help._

_ Sincerely:_

_ Hermione J. Granger_

* * *

_Dear Harry, _

_I hope my owl hasn't come at a bad time, _but...

* * *

"Oh, dash it!" Hermione proclaimed, crumpling her letter to Harry in her fist. Asking Sirius to pay back his life debt to her, for rescuing him from the veil, was hard enough. Asking Harry for help, even though he was her friend, was too much. Hermione was the one who was supposed to have all the answers and have everything figured out, not the other way around. Besides, she already had to pay for one owl...and she would probably have to scrimp on her parchment and ink to pay for it. Considering parchment, paper, and ink were the the only things she spent her money on besides rent, it was quite a sacrifice.

Quickly Hermione tied her note to Sirius closed with a piece of string she'd saved from an experiment in her science class last Monday, Hermione wished she had some real wax to seal it with like normal. It was pretty sad that she didn't even have wax to seal her letters. Having finished that, Hermione redid her pony tail and slipped out of the house with her keys, a jacket, and her last couple euros in her pocket.

Once again Hermione marveled at how lovely it was to be so close to campus. All she had to do was walk around the corner, and she was at the owl office. She waited impatiently for her turn at the counter, almost bouncing up and down on her toes while she waited in line.

"May I help you?" The teenage boy behind the counter asked in a bored, nasel voice which instantly made Hermione want to cringe. He thought he had problems!

"Yes, please. I'd like to send a letter to Sirius Black, at Grimmauld Place, number 13." Hermione replied, trying her best to be polite.

"Certainly. That will be ten Euros, or ten sickles." The boy informed her. Hermione's heart sank. She didn't have ten Euros! _Or_ ten sickles. How was she supposed to get her letter to Sirius?

"Thank you." Hermione replied, fishing in her pockets as though she thought she had it. Pretending to look startled, Hermione gave the boy an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry...I seem to have misplaced my sickles..." She grumbled, digging deeper into her pockets. The boy rolled his eyes impatiently, obviously having seen such a predicament many times before. When the customers behind her showed signs of anger, Hermione shook her head in a sad sort of way and smiled apologetically at them, too.

"Sorry, I seem to have left my money in my other pants. Guess I'll have to come back later." She sighed in a sort of put-out way, as though she couldn't believe her own foolishness. Withdrawing herself from the counter, Hermione left the small office. Once she was outside she let the apologetic, sad look drop from her face. A sort of hopelessness replaced it. Checking her watch, she saw that it was quarter to five. She'd cried for a long time, then. Opening her cellphone, she was glad she'd charmed it to work without a plan, when she'd been a freshman. Otherwise she wouldn't have it. Just one more thing she'd have to do without. She started to dial Todd's number, to ask if she could borrow his owl, and stopped.

The reminder that she couldn't borrow Todd's owl because she'd just dumped him, was not pleasant. Not only because she was still hurting, but also because she still didn't have a way to owl Sirius.

Not a single idea came to Hermione as she tried to think of a solution to her dilemma. Normally she wouldn't have asked Sirius for help, as she'd always thought him irresponsible. But there really wasn't anyone else she could, or would, ask. Finally, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, she decided she'd have to call in sick to work. Hermione Jane Granger had never taken a sick day before, she couldn't if she wanted to continue paying rent, taking classes, and buying supplies for her classes. This was bigger than that, though.

If food and rest were not available, Hermione felt she would die or explode. Worse, she actually felt like giving up! Hermione Jane Granger did _not_ give up! Except lately it'd seemed like everything was piling up around her, and it kept growing higher and higher until she could drown in the essays, classes, fees, bills, and work. Flipping the phone back open resolutely, Hermione dialed her boss's number. After the third ring, he picked up.

"Hello, Gordon here." He said. Hermione felt like crying. _Again._

"Hi Gordon. I'm sorry to interrupt your work, but I'm feeling really sick today. Could you get someone to cover my shift, please?" She asked softly, not having to strain her voice to sound sick.

"Of course! I hope you get well soon. I don't think I've ever seen you so sick you wouldn't work! Don't worry, I'll have Sirina come in. She's wanted to try being a server for a while now anyways. Do you think you'll need more than one day?" He asked, concerned for her immediately. A small smile graced Hermione's face for a moment. Working and doing school all the time was really hard, but she had a wonderful boss who actually cared about his employees.

"I...hope not. You might want to have someone on call, just in case." Hermione replied, worriedly. Gordon laughed.

"Honey, you've worked every single day since you started here. It's a restaurant, not a hospital. If you don't show up, we'll call someone in. You make it sound like it's life-threatening. Get some rest and come back when you feel better." He ordered, before hanging up. Leaning against the convenient wall of a building behind her, Hermione tried to plan out her next move in her head.

The first step would have to be to clean up. Briskly trotting back to her flat, Hermione took out some of her nicer clothes, all that remained of her clothing from before college. Drawing her wand, she hesitated for a moment. Closing her eyes, Hermione assessed how much energy she had in her body.

_"Best not to chance it. If I want to make it to Grimmauld place in one piece, that is. I still might not...that hex earlier today took a lot out of me."_ She thought grimly. Grabbing the clothing, Hermione walked quickly to the campus gym. Once inside the girl's locker room, Hermione went to one of the girls at the counter.

"Hey Laurie. Sorry to bother you, but...I've run out of laundry money for the month and I've got a special date tonight...Can I toss this in with some of the school swim suits and teeshirts that need washing? I'll take care of putting the load in and switching it." Hermione asked, knowing Laurie wouldn't refuse Hermione if it was for a 'special date'. Laurie wasn't her friend, but they had an understanding.

As long as she didn't abuse the privilege, Hermione was allowed to do the girl's laundry for the gym and Laurie would look the other way when Hermione put some of her own clothes in too. While the clothes washed, Hermione checked out a towel on her student ID card and went into the showers. With the hot water spraying down on her, Hermione felt almost human.

Quickly she scrubbed away the months worth of grime. Squeezing some soap out of the dispenser on the side, she quickly lathered it into her hair. It was only hand soap, but it would help clean and that's all Hermione cared about. She took her time in the shower, since the washer took about thirty minutes for each load.

When she heard the buzzer go off in the other room, Hermione trotted across the tile floor to the laundry room. Slipping inside in nothing but her towel, she switched the load into the dryer. Spying a small comb that had been dropped on the floor, Hermione thanked whatever powers were looking out for her, and prayed that there wasn't lice or something equally disgusting on the comb. She went back into the shower room and stood beneath a hand dryer that had been mounted high enough for someone to stand under it.

While the hot air cascaded over her head, she combed out her long hair. Hermione had always kept her hair long, but it used to go only to her shoulders. Now it hung down to mid-back, because Hermione couldn't cut it herself and couldn't pay for a hair cut. Long, dull, syrup colored strands appeared as Hermione worked her way around her head. Her hair had calmed down a lot since her Hogwarts days. In fact it'd calmed down a lot since she'd last seen her friends from Hogwarts and the Order. Idly she wondered what they'd think of her now. Having finished her hair and still having a good ten or fifteen minutes until the dryer was done, she walked over to a mirror in one of the bathrooms and looked at herself.

A short, skeletal-like girl with long, dull hair stared back at her from weary dark eyes. Huge dark shadows under her eyes and cheek bones reinforced the skeletal look. The dirt that had collected on her skin had lent her its color before. Now her skin was unnaturally pale and so dry she thought it might start flaking off at any moment. Her lip was still bleeding. Wiping it with the tips of her fingers, she stared at the blood, almost uncomprehending...when had that gotten there? Had she ever bitten through her lip before?

"Bzzzzzzz!" Called the dryer's buzzer. Back in the laundry room once more, Hermione slipped into the still-warm black skirt and the soft polyester top. Then she grabbed all the suits and tee-shirts from the dryer and put them in the 'clean' laundry basket. She also slipped back into her flat black shoes. Grabbing her keys and the last couple euro's from her pants pockets, she stuffed the clothing behind the washer where no one would find it.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione looked at her watch again. It was six thirty. She turned where she was and concentrated as hard as she could on Grimmauld Place. Hermione felt some of the last dregs of her energy being pulled from her, but the leave had been smooth. Hopefully the arrival would be, too.

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Hello again! Hope you like that first chapter! Review if you want to see her arrive safely or not! What do you think? Did I do a good job on this chapter? Let me know, people! Remember, no comments, no next chapter!

For those of you who are interested, the title comes from a poem by Helen Lowrie Marshall. If any of you have a copy of the poem, mine is locked up in storage and I can't get to it. I'll send an e-muffin to whoever can get a copy of it for me! Laters!

Wingsrookie.

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